


The Weather's Fine

by Idonquixote



Category: Ice Age (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Gen, Het and Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idonquixote/pseuds/Idonquixote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how Manfred meets Diego, the man with a tiger's laugh and a devil's smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lunarblue21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarblue21/gifts).



> I do not own Ice Age.

_They meet at a baseball game._ Manny sits, eyes angry and tired, his coat too thick, and his hair tousled under the silly cap. He doesn’t know why he comes to these games, at least not anymore. It’s a junior league game. He’s surrounded by bickering parents, couples who laugh and gossip and fight. Some come in singles.

But he has no right to be there. His son can never play on the team again. Coach Buck acknowledges him from time to time. But around him, the lithe man never jokes, never acts the way he did before…

The women are especially kind around him, the men don’t clap him on the shoulder anymore. He’s lost all contact with them after… Either way, he doesn’t care as they gossip behind his back. He’s just here for the stupid game, to get it under way, so at night he can lie in the bed that’s too big, shut his eyes, and pretend there’s a living, breathing, smiling boy on that field today, waving with his new baseball glove. It’s a present from his father, it was supposed to be opened on Christmas. The gift still lies in Manny’s home, gathering dust in an unopened package.

"Got room next to ya?"

Manny turns. He’s never seen this man before- it’s a well-built guy, he finds himself noticing, wearing a leather jacket, and looking like he either came out of a chain gang or a 50s greaser film. The guy grins, looking a bit like an imp, his green eyes flashing with warmth. It’s the type of warmth that most of the younger fathers don’t have- it’s the type that Manny sees in the mirror each night.

"Yeah." He pats the spot on his left.

The man sits beside him with a whistle, running a hand through his slick, black hair. “Thanks.”

"So, your kid here?"

"Yeah… that one." 

The man points at the shortest kid on the field, a boy who still wore the face of a toddler. Manny notes the child’s skin, a good few shades darker than the man beside him. He wonders about the mother.

"What’s his name?"

"I call him Pinky; it’s actually Roshan."

They sit in silence as the children prepare. The man yawns and looks at Manny again. 

"I never introduced myself, did I? Man, that’s rude. Diego."

He extends a hand.

"Manfred, friends call me Manny." The bigger man shakes it.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt this at ease with someone. He finds himself smiling wearily, glad that the man asks nothing more of him. But as he watches Diego, he can’t help but notice a few strands of honey poking out of the black head, as if the dark hair was a result of a hasty dye job.

It’s the first sign of deceit and many days later, Manny would be cursing himself for not catching on. And many days before that, he would be drunkenly running his hands through that hair, his ears filled with soft moans. This is how he meets Diego, the man with a tiger’s laugh and a devil’s smile. 

* * *

This first time they meet, they don't say much. Manny watches the children play their game- he doesn't really root for any team in particular- they all look the same to him: small, clumsy, and not _his_. But just this once he decides to clap for the red team, the one Roshan plays for, even if the kid spends three fourths of the game sitting on the bench like a dork, not that Diego cares. 

"He go to Wedge?" Manny asks out of curiosity. That's the only elementary he knows. He still remembers the route towards it- turn left on Lambert's, watch for the stop sign- not that he ever needs to or wants to drive towards it again. 

"Yeah," Diego says, then he adds, "we're new here, might be why we've never met."

"Welcome to the town. You won't find much- I've always preferred the city."

"I'm a bit sick of the city."

Manny laughs. It isn't until many days later that he remembers this statement- that is when he realizes Diego had not been kidding. They don't say anything more, save a few comments about the weather. Roshan's team loses by a good ten and more points. Diego stands up and stretches, chuckling darkly as the father behind him complains- "buddy, you're blocking the view!" 

Manny stays seated as the other parents move to greet their children. He usually leaves at this point to avoid the looks and whispers. But this time he doesn't. Diego hops down the stairs with so much eagerness Manny almost wonders if it's fear. He doesn't get to think more because Diego turns around and says "hey, you know any good places to eat? Me and Pinky'd like to celebrate his first game."

Manny raises a brow. "You know... he kind of uh... _lost_." And he didn't even play.

"Is that a yes or no?"

Manny imagines himself going home and drinking himself silly, flipping the TV until the remote falls on the ground, absently rolling the unopened baseball glove in his hands. And then he'd wake up and go to work, a frown on his face and a little stubble stuck on his chin. 

"Yes, I guess. So, I drive or you?"

"I'd prefer you." And Diego casts a small grin.

Manny stands up, feeling a little less grumpy. He follows Diego down the bleachers, shooting not-so-subtle glares at the parents who can't stop staring at him. Do these people have nothing better to look at? 

When he meets Roshan, the boy just stares at him. Then the child smiles, fresh as morning light, so warm that Manny finds himself unable to look away. "Hey, Pinky, right?"

That night Manny learns Pinky can't really speak English, that Diego hates tipping waiters, and that he still knows how to laugh. This is how he spends his night- cutting up vegetables for a child who isn't his and having virgin drinks with a man he barely knows. It's the best dinner he's had in such a long long time.

And when Diego says "thanks, Manfred," it sounds alarmingly good, like a pur that hits all the right notes when every other tune goes wrong. 

"Friends call me Manny."

"My bad- thanks, Manny. Means we're friends, right?"

Manny doesn't object. He would find out a few weeks later that objecting to Diego is very, very hard. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Last night was the best night Manny's had in a very long time. All good things come to an end, of course, and that's how he feels as he impatiently presses the horn at a red light that seems stuck on crimson. He woke up too late this morning, barely had time to shave, and neglected to take his morning coffee. He blames that man from the baseball game- what's his name again- Diego, right. Diego.

Diego what?

He never asked. It doesn't matter. Diego, the man who grins like an imp, and his foreign son, the boy with heaven's smile, as cheesy as that sounds, wouldn't be able to help him through this traffic anyway. The light turns green and Manny presses the gas without a second thought, several cars honking as he zooms past. Like hell he's going to be late for work. Manfred is never late. Mostly because he hates greeting co-workers in the elevator, hates the way they try to soften their voices at him, hates the outcast he's become.

"Pull over!"

The order comes out muffled. Manny ignores it, cursing when he hears the sound of sirens behind him, sees the police cruiser in his sideview mirror. Reluctantly, he stops, if only because there was a roadblock ahead. Adjusting his tie and putting on his best I-am-not-going-to-kill-you-if-you-look-the-hell-away face, he rolls down the window. No way _he'll_ be the one stepping out of his car.

"Problem?" he asks lowly.

The cop stumbles out of the parked cruiser, the sirens still blaring. He's a youngish man, hair scruffy and flat, eyes two lazy bulges that glare at Manny accusingly. "You, sthir, were sthpeeding!"

Some spittle flies and Manny's tempted to roll up the window again. "Listen, buddy, I'm late for work. It's been a rough morning. Just write me a ticket and I'll be on my way."

The cop leans against his car, but nearly slides down. It's such a terrible attempt to be cool that Manny rolls his eyes. Next time he wasn't going to pull over. But the spitting officer isn't done yet. "Oh, bet you'd like that, pal, write a ticket, easthy way out, huh?"

He crosses his arms. "Well, s'not happening today, not on my watch. You and me, we're going to have a heart-to-heart, do you know how many poor little kids you could've run over? Little grandmas? I have a granny- well, she'd live- but you know, it'sth people like you who are ruining thisth country!"

_Are you serious? Is this guy serious?_

"I'm really late, officer."

"Well, I can't write you a ticket now. Not in my field anymore, but you can be sure this face has memorized your- I mean, this head- no, thesthe eyes! Have memorized your face!"

Not within his field!? What the hell!? He was stopped. For. This. Too angry to say anything else, Manny steps on the gas and pulls away, the car shooting off and leaving the good-for-nothing cop in the dust, the guy shouting at him incoherently.

* * *

The public coffee machine is a crapshoot. Manny doesn't expect it to get any better but this morning, a miracle would be really nice. He's twenty minutes late and the interns are running wild, his colleagues are dying behind their desks, and the kids he's supposed to be supervising are goofing off. If he ever sees that cop again, he's going to punch him in the face.

He needs that coffee. Badly.

"Hey, hey Manny!"

He knows that voice. Too energetic, too frat-like, too-

"Don't call me that," he says, turning to frown at the youth. Eddie's up to his shoulder, looking like he hasn't combed his hair in years- what else is new?- and wearing a pin-striped suit. It's not the worst of the man's fashion choices.

"Sorry, Mr. Noman. But I was looking for you all day, man! I've go this, like-"

"For the last time, we are not hiring your brother!"

"Hey, it's not about him this time. He's working hard, I swear- community college, almost out-"

"I don't have time for this-"

"Wait!" Eddie steps in his way, "my idea!  A new commercial for monster trucks-"

"Okay, that won't work, kid. One, we work for independent businesses, two, the word 'business' is in there, and three, we don't do commercials. Too expensive. We're still paying off those damned billboards."

Eddie pouts at him. Manny rolls his eyes- he's not falling for that again. "Kid, I need you to run out and get me a cup of coffee." He's dying.

"What kind? And are you sure-"

"Yes, I'm sure. And black, no sugar, no cream, none of that happy peppy fancy stuff you like."

"On it, boss!"

"Scram." 

Eddie leaves, sneakers bouncing as he jogs. Then he comes back, a grin on his face yet again. "And Manny-"

"Agh!"

"My sister's visiting today. Really nice, maybe you two should, you know-"

What is wrong with these people? Did he look like the type who goes on dates for no reason? Does he look so pathetic and lonely? 

"A little."

Was he saying that out loud? Manny raises his hands. "Whatever! If she's anything like your brother, what makes you think-"

"She's adopted," then in a whisper, "but don't tell her I said that."

Somehow that doesn't make it any better. "Just go already."

"Yes sir!"

* * *

The second time they meet, it's at a dumpster in the middle of the night. It's almost twelve Manny's on his way home, mind still going over the events at work: there's a deal that needs to be done with, the designer is replaced, and that coffee machine needs serious fixing. Oh, and that new secretary needs a serious reprimanding. The headlights scan ahead and he's cruising at a comfortable level. 

He passes some townhouses that he's never bothered looking at before. But this time he stops the car and stares, mouth dropping. Because it's such a loud scene. 

That stupid cop from the morning is struggling in another man's grasp, the latter's black jacket oddly familiar. The man lifts the cop up, and that's when Manny sees his face, the unmistakeable green eyes, this time masked with rage, and the slicked old-style hair. Diego.

"You can't do thisth! I'll find you- I'll-"

Diego dunks the officer in the garbage. "How many times do I have to tell you!? Leave me and the kid alone! Got it!?"

The dumpster lid slams. Hard. But Manny can still hear the cop banging from inside it, shouting like there was no tomorrow. Maybe he should help the guy. Ah, who was he kidding? Manny laughs. 

The window rolls down. "Hey," he calls.

Diego freezes, a flash of embarrassment crossing his face. "You didn't... see that, did you?"

Manny shakes his head, grinning all the while. It's hilarious what Diego and the cop have done, and it isn't until many days later that Manny learns things could have gone worse for the cop. A lot worse. Diego doesn't do things like that anymore, and it isn't until many days later that Manny learns what kinds of things he used to do.


	3. Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for chapter length. This one is an anomaly- a "special episode"- so maybe that makes up for it. It probably won't happen again. Here I present the first chapter from Diego's POV

His name is Diego Cortez. He's dry and he's cruel and he's cold. He knows how to lie and how to kill. And he knows how to do it with a grin in his mouth. 

He used to think so too.

It's been two weeks since the incident, maybe more, but Diego can't shake the job from his mind. Something was different about it- _please, please, you bastard_ \- something that made him think. And the more he thinks, the more he vomits. Because now he knows it's no different than all the other jobs he's had. But this one makes him realize what a- _just go to hell, you_ \- he was.

Drinks don't help. He beat up Oscar the other day. It didn't help.

He opens a window and takes a long drag from the cigarette. This is when he first sees _her_. She's walking past the corner of his brownstone, a real catch, healthy tan skin and exotic eyes. She's got the look of someone who doesn't belong here. She should be in upper Manhattan, not where ever he is. The weather isn't good. Chilly. His pipes have frozen again. No wonder it's so cold.

* * *

The guys play cards on Friday night. Nothing's come up yet and they're doing their best to please Soto. He's had it rough, Diego knows. So many years in prison can do that to a man, especially in light of other events.

"You're cheating!" Lenny shouts, flinging a stack of poker chips on the floor. Diego makes a tch sound. 

"Well, you cheating, Diego?" Oscar jokes, scratching the stubble on his chin.

And Diego smirks, a dry little move that pisses Lenny off and makes Soto smile. Their leader leans back in his chair, lighting another smoke. Zeke returns, one eye twitching, mouth spread in an unhealthy grin, holding five bottles of beer. Diego would smack that ruffy head if he wasn't holding their drinks. 

"Don't see any point in cheating a bunch of bums," Diego says, looking at his nails, surprisingly clean, "but you have to admit, it's fun." He grins once more.

"That it is," Soto says in his deep voice, dark eyes falling on his beta. 

A few hours later and they've gone through a crate of beer. There's cheating on the table and a blatant loss of cards. Soto's basement is damp and dusty, filled with hidden things and rusty stains. Diego can still smell the corpse they chopped up a few years back. Nasty times, everyone but Zeke would agree.

Diego doesn't feel much better. Almost worse. 

"I'm heading back," he announces.

Lenny's out drunk, slumped over the pool table. Oscar just nods, choking on smoke. Zeke's throwing up in the bathroom somewhere. "Wait," Soto says, "I need to tell you something." The taller man stands up, older suddenly, darker.

"Tell me now."

"I know who did it."

Diego says nothing, gathering his jacket.

"He's a teacher, Indian. I was caught because of him." The beer's talking. "Son of a bitch. I'll make him cry. Tear him to little pieces. He should have minded his own business, Diego. He should have left us alone. Those types that work with the cops, I hate them. Hate them so fucking much!"

Soto rants on about what he'd do to the professor. The man's name is Runar. He's got a wife. Just like Soto used to, a spunky woman who could play a mean game of pool. And then he went to jail, nabbed by the hats. That was a long time ago. But Diego can't say he's forgotten what happened next. Their gang's pissed enough rivals off and Soto gone was a miracle for them. Diego told Soto the news from the prison phone, apathetic as the other man broke down and wept. He left out the details, like what they did to the woman, how they killed his kids. 

First thing Soto did when he left jail: gather his men and storm the enemy. Diego remembers with a sadistic satisfaction what they did. Bastards deserved it. 

But this Runar. He couldn't help but feel Soto was barking up the wrong tree. Not since... he needed a drink later... had he felt this way. 

He leaves without another word.

* * *

Her name's Nadia.

It's on the way back from Soto's that Diego sees her again. He's had a bit much to drink, but he's not drunk yet. But there's Zeke, his hair messier than ever, his jeans unzipped, crowding a figure in the alleyway. It's not an unfamiliar sight, but he hasn't seen it in a while. But this time it makes him mad. 

Diego yanks him from behind, the woman screaming. He locks Zeke's neck, the latter choking and sputtering ("what the hell?! Ha ha! Just having fun!"). You think it's funny, asshole? I'll show you funny. So he punches Zeke in the face, pins him to the wall and throws blow after blow. His knuckles bruise and his hands bloody. And fuck, I thought my nails were clean. Fuck you! So he keeps on hitting, Zeke begging for respite ("buddy! buddy!"). Don't buddy me, you fucking son of a bitch. 

"I'll share 'er with you!" Zeke slurs.

How bout I share _you_ with me!? He kicks Zeke in the crotch, again and again, thinking about what happened to Soto's wife and... he's so angry that all he wants to do is smash this idiot's brain in. Thought you liked this kind of thing! Why don't you beg, bend over, suck my-

"Stop!" the woman yells.

And that's when Diego pauses, letting Zeke crumple to the ground, a bruised, bloody, fucking mess. A car zooms past, the headlights whizzing by, her face caught in the light. There's a cut on her lip, a small bruise on her temple, her clothes a bit ripped. Diego hears his own rapid breathing. He's fucked up.

"Come on," he says softly. 

She takes his hand and really in the dark, he thinks she's the one leading him.

* * *

She lives in a brownstone, a little close to his own. He sits, shaking on her sofa, watching her tend to her little son. She doesn't ask him anything. Just lets him sit. She fixes some tea for them later. The place is small, but warm. Their pipes sure aren't frozen. That's probably when she says her name.

He's too fixed on whatever the hell he just felt to pay much attention, but he hears her name. Nadia. There's a red dot in the middle of her forehead.

"Thank you," she says, sitting across from him. The whole place smells like tea now.

He doesn't say a word to her the whole time. Then he leaves.

* * *

Sometimes Diego wonders why Nadia didn't let him kill the bastard. And it comes down to one answer- mercy. No reason. 

He mulls over it longer than he should. He reads the newspaper under a dim little light, takes more drinks than he needs, and goes through a pack of smokes too soon. A few weeks go by this way. He doesn't watch TV, but he pays for cable. His water's still funky but he can't really care. He's not sure what he's eating lately- frozen meat, ordered pizza, Chinese, whatever's edible. He's not sure what he's doing.

He's been avoiding the gang. Doesn't return Soto's calls. Skips a few Fridays.

He's out jogging for fuck's sake when he sees her again. Nadia waves at him from a bench. She's taking the bus to the airport. 

"What for?" he asks, stuffing his hands in leather pockets. 

"My husband said I should." Her voice is lightly accented. Damn, it sounds good.

He thinks of Zeke. Diego smooths his hair back. "Want me to come?" It's not really a question.

For some reason, she trusts him. It's three hours thanks to traffic but they get to the airport  at last. Nothing really happens on the bus. He stands and she sits. But this time, he talks. Light things. How's the weather? Where you from? How old's the baby?

She answers and asks no questions. When they're in the airport, people hurry past but no one comes for Nadia. Diego gets bored quickly. But someone does come, a cop, a loser in a tie who eyes Diego with a lazy and shitty gaze. He goes to the bathroom while the two talk.

They have dinner together, coke, not beer, and warm chicken sandwiches. Damn expensive. But Diego pays. 

* * *

Diego watches some documentaries on TV. It's about an idiot who escaped prison and went back for his buddies. He snorts. No one would do that. Lenny sure didn't. He crosses his legs, the couple next door shouting and throwing objects at each other. The phone rings.

He picks up. Says nothing.

"Te necesito." I need you.

Soto's voice.

"Por que?" Why?

"Sabes." You know.

 _No me digas_. No you don't say. But Diego knows better than to rebuke Soto. He says nothing for a good few minutes. Soto's planning something and he needs help. It can't be good. Diego changes the channel and hangs up.

* * *

The kid's name is Roshan. It's in the morning and Nadia's holding him in her arms as they stroll.

Diego walks with her, sullen and tired. It's become a weekly thing, these little walks and pointless chats. No one ever mentions that night. She tells him she didn't go to the police later. He knows it's because he'd be in trouble. It's touching, really. Touching, yeah. Ouch.

The baby cries. Diego bends close to its face. Peek a boo! It laughs and he feels really stupid. But Nadia giggles and the baby's happy so there's that. He does that for a while. And then it laughs so hard its face turns pink.

 _Pinky_.

"He's cute," Diego says with a shrug. 

"I know."

Fuck Soto. Diego's not doing shit about this stupid plan. He has lunch with Nadia, at a cheap little place where he doesn't tip. He does it again the next day. And the next.

And one day she cries. I miss him, she says, It's hard. I'm sorry. Diego knows.

He finds out a few days later, sitting in her home, stroking the baby's head, that her husband's in some witness protection. She's not in it. But she's here for some reason and they're kept apart and she misses him and their old home and he was supposed to wire money but something went wrong.

He says nothing. He holds her hand. That's supposed to help.

* * *

Early spring ends and the trees go green again. The weather's real fine. Between here and there, Diego takes a few jobs just to show Soto he's not completely ignoring him. They're pieces of cake. 

He does what he usually does- storm into some whiner's dark home, put a gun to the guy's head, sometimes the guy's girl, and give Soto's message. Sometimes he walks away with fresh bucks, sometimes he leaves the guy a bullet in the flesh. But there's no more smiling when he does it. It's getting harder. Maybe he's getting older.

He shows up at Nadia's at least twice a week. It's like he's drunk on her tea, on the spice in their little home, on Pinky's giggling. Roshan grows a little- more hair, more flesh, a little harder for the mother to carry. Diego gives him a piggyback ride once, Nadia laughing from her spot by the kitchen.

He's not sure which home is which anymore- hers or his. His books- not much, but he glares at them when he's in a mood- gather dust, he stops paying for cable altogether, his bed is never made. It's not home. But to be honest, it never was.

"I know a place, Italian," he tells her one night.

"I'm married," she says with a laugh. But he sees the blush, the hint in her words. She wants what he wants but not enough.

It doesn't matter. "I know. Best buddies, aren't we?" he says instead.

She never asks what he does. She doesn't bat an eye when he picks her up on a speedy motorcycle. He says nothing when she brings the baby on their dates. He likes the kid, he admits. He's never liked kids until now.

They go to the Italian place a few more times. He starts bringing flowers to dinner, roses. Then he starts bringing them whenever he sees her. It's nice to see her smile.

* * *

He thinks about her smile out of the blue sometimes. It's fucking weird. He's with the gang when they bang up some smalltime thugs, kids who think they're a gang but can't handle the storm that's Soto. Lenny's whining as Oscar pulls a knife from his thigh. Diego has a smarting bruise on his face, but it's nothing compared to the messes in the alley. He looks at his hands: nails clean, clear skin, pure irony.

One of the teens is wearing a necklace, a silver cross dangling on the loop. Diego hates it when men wear jewlery, not that anyone's ever really agreed with him. But he hates the way the kid wears the cross. The boy's a hypocrite. A lot of them in the line are. 

He straightens his jacket and spits on the ground. "Mess with Soto again, brats- it's not gonna end well."

And he steps on another youth's nose.

There are more fights as things get warmer. He does more jobs. It gets harder every time. He feels slower, detached, not sure what he's doing. And every time he sees a boy wearing the cross wrong, he just wants to sock the kid in the face and tell him to stop being such a hypocrite. There's enough to sully without dragging religion into the mix.

 It's funny, really. Diego's never read the bible.

* * *

Gold hair's a recessive trait. Diego learned that from a textbook a long time ago. He still remembers. It's true. His hair's a light shade of brown, mixed with dusty yellow. He knows from pictures that his grandmother had gold hair, almost bleach white. The picture was in black and white- his grandfather had a dark head. And his father, he knows, has black hair. So does his mother, from what little he remembers. 

But he looks a bit like her. 

Nadia's hair is black, like silk. She gets prettier each time, like some goddess out of a painting. Which is strange because she gets messier each time too. Maybe it's just him overthinking. 

"How'd you meet him?" he asks over a cup of coffee, "your husband?"

"Our parents were close friends. He was my best friend as a child." She laughs, a blush coming to her cheeks. Diego smiles at it. "School, everything after... oh, people here... they look down on these kinds of marriages, but I am happy. I couldn't be happier with the matchmaking. We married in summer."

The sun shines through the window, refusing to set. 

"And then Roshan."

And then she asks, a little sudden, "And you, Diego? Anyone special in your life?"

His mouth hangs open for a bit. Anyone? He thinks back. All he remembers are the hookers Lenny hires. There are a few wild girls he met at bars and clubs. He thinks harder. It's hard to lie to Nadia. 

"I was fifteen." He looks away for a moment. "She was an orphan, grew up on the streets, tougher than the boys. She was fourteen then, looked sixteen. We shared a burger together because she didn't have enough money and I was an awkward little shit."

"Did it go anywhere?"

"Yeah." Yeah, it did. She was an albino or at least she looked it. He offered her a place in Soto's gang. "She didn't agree with things my... brother... wanted to do. But I think she liked me. I liked her." She kissed him at a drive-in movie, picked the lock of someone else's car, and they went at it right here on the poor sap's seats. Neither were virgins.

"We were together for a while. Dumb kids. But it didn't really work after a while. I had my thing and she had hers." She robbed Soto. Back then, Soto wasn't so... him, but back then he was scared and angry, like the rest of them. He remembered hiding her from him and telling her to run- go Shira, just go, don't let him find you, I love you. Gracias. And then she left without another word.

"She's probably some stripper now," he said. It's supposed to be a joke but no one laughs.

They talk about the weather, little things that aren't so personal and then he leans closer. She doesn't pull back. He can almost taste the spice, the chapstick, the leftover tea, the coffee, everything that's her. They're so close, so close. Te quiero. Te amo.

"I'm sorry," she mutters. She turns away and he purses his lips. Diego's awful guilty. 

"No, I'm sorry. Just forget it." And he laughs softly. 

* * *

Some time in summer, Roshan's birthday passes. Nadia buys some cupcakes and Diego shares a few. By this point, he knows she likes to keep to herself, low-profile, still waiting for word from this husband. He's jealous. He knows that now. But he wonders, maybe the guy's just as pissed as him: this is his wife, his son, and they're spending all their time with some lowlife. It makes Diego smug.

It's stuffy in her apartment so they open a window. Pinky's asleep. 

"Something's bothering you, Diego," she says.

"Oh?"

"You can tell me." She won't judge. He wants to say "I love you." That's all, really. But it's not what's on his mind right now. "Is there anything you want to say?"

_Mother died when I was five. Don't remember much about her. She cried a lot- I think she left us, wasn't sure. She got hit by a car._

He shrugs.

_Old man said I looked like her. He was in a lot of trouble, debt, crime, all that. My father would beat me and it hurt more than it should._

"I-"

_I only knew Spanish when I was seven. Ingles fue dificil. We came to the estados unidos some time then. Old man found work, got in an accident. I met Soto that day. He came the same way. His folks kicked him out- they did things to him, terrible things. And it was just us. On the streets- he protected me. He was my brother. And I'm so fucking sorry, Soto._

"I don't-"

_I never made it past middle school. Got relocated to a home once- didn't work out. I was too troublesome. Ran away later. When I was thirteen, I got addicted to this thing- this real nice thing- coke, I'm not sure. Weed. I was doped up until I was eighteen. It was hard to stop but I had to. I just fucking had to._

"I don't know."

_I killed a guy when I was sixteen. I had to. He was killing me, he was going to hurt Soto. The gun was real heavy then. Kind of like it is now._

"Nadia, I don't know."

_I did so many things when I was fourteen. Soto said I had to, for the gang. I don't know anymore- I fought people, I let people do things to me. And I can't change that and it's really embarassing, really._

_And last year, I did something rotten. It's terrible- you'd hate me. Bet you'd kick me out if you knew. You're too damn nice to do more._

"I just don't know."

_Then I meet you and you're everything I never knew I needed but you love some other asshole and he's damn lucky and I'm never going to feel this way again._

Diego shuts his eyes. He wants to smoke, but Nadia doesn't like the smell. He's shaking- it got real cold but it's summer. The sun's shining and damn, he's never liked the sun. He's never liked anything except everything that was gone.

Her arms are around him. Maybe she wishes for more- he does, he does. But for now, this is all he wants. To be with her in this small room, the window bright and that ache in his chest. It's a good ache, the kind that makes him want to live.

* * *

The leaves turn red again. Yellow and orange and sharp sharp red. It's on one of those moonless nights, not winter and not summer, but that October in between that Diego finds himself slammed on the ground.

"Avoiding us, eh?"

He's in one of the alleys, on his way back from some rundown bar, feeling too calm for whatever's happening. Oscar lifts him by the collar. Soto's standing behind, arms crossed, mouth drawn in a line. 

"What are you-?"

He's socked in the jaw. He sees Lenny and Zeke and- he hits the wall, a bunch of punches and kicks aiming randomly. They smart but the gang's not really aiming to kill. They're mad though. Real mad. He's choking on blood when Soto has the others hold him up.

"Diego, I trusted you."

Soto's right in front of him, large and dark. "My righthand man, why?"

"Damn it, Soto, I was just tired- give a guy a break."

"Break your neck!" Oscar hisses, but Soto quiets him. The alpha pulls something from inside his jacket, a photo, crumpled and solemn. He flashes it in front of Diego. And that's when he realizes it. He's just been hit by a truck and lit on fire. Fuck.

The husband in protection. Nadia's been keeping just as many secrets as him. It all makes sense now. That's her face next to Runar's. Runar's the husband. All this time.

"They're your neighbors. If you weren't too busy playing cat and mouse with us, you'd know. You know what to do."

"Lo siento," Diego whispers, and then louder, "It wouldn't solve nothing."

"I don't want to solve anything!"

Soto lifts him by the hair. He twists the locks where they hurt and pulls Diego closer. "I'm giving you one last chance, Diego. You know it's your last one."

Soto pulls out a gun. It's real heavy in Diego's hand. Soto forces his fingers over it. "Make it hurt."

* * *

The last time he sees Nadia is on a moonless night. The weather's not too good.

He's sore and bruised and there's blood on his shirt. Diego stumbles toward the brownstone, Soto's gun in his hand. He's shaking. Damn, need a drink, another smoke. What's he supposed to do? He thinks about shooting himself. But he wants to live. Why why why? Because she's alive. She's alive.

He wants to live to see her live. That's it. It's fucked up.

When she lets him into her own, its with a gasp. "I'm fine, keep quiet," he orders. 

He locks the door for her, draws the curtains shut, looks for the baby. He's shaking so hard she asks if they should call the hospital.

"No." Soto knows he's here. They're not going to believe Nadia took off. No, they have to leave together.

"I'm going to kill you," he says evenly, "I'm going to shoot you and you scream. We're going to mess up some stuff."

She stares, perplexed. "Diego-"

"All this fancy stuff's going down. Then you stay, hide, get your things. I'm going to take you and Roshan downtown- we'll go to the police station and you're not going to leave understand? You have to tell them everything. My boss is mad at your husband; he's a guy he's being protected from. Damn it, Nadia- why didn't you tell me his name was Runar?"

"Why are you telling me now?"

She's sad, the way she says it. They both know how ironic it is. She's been protecting Runar, but if she'd told him earlier, if they'd just come clean with each other so much earlier...  He feels tears prick. So he pulls her toward him. 

"I'm so fucking sorry," he says, "I'm so sorry. I'm a bastard who didn't wanna ruin all this... I didn't know it'd be like this." So many things he wants to say. But this is all he can manage.

She's shaking against him, she's crying. And then she nods. "Do what you need to. I'll get Roshan."

He pulls the gun out and fires into the air. The ceiling's hit, debris falls, the sound's so loud Nadia yelps. She runs away, Roshan crying. While she gathers him in her arms, calming him, Diego shouts: "Shut up!" He knocks a lamp over. He laughs harshly.

Nadia fakes a moan. Roshan's quiet against her soft rocking. Diego nods at her. He's going to get his bike but then- The door's kicked open. It's Oscar. And the idiot's grinning like he's hit the jackpot. Diego steps in front of Nadia, sure there's hell on his face.

"Soto's not too bright all the time, you know?" Oscar chuckles, pointing his gun at the others. "He's waiting for you. But I told 'im we can't trust you. I fucking told him."

It happens too fast and too slow. Oscar presses the trigger. He's not really aiming at Diego or the woman. It's trained on the kid. And Diego's a fraction slow. The bullet grazes his arm- he feels the pain churn and burn- the hell- no no. Fuck no. And he's diving on the ground. Because Nadia's fast enough, almost supernaturally so, and she's down. She's _down_. 

All that blood. It reminds him of his mother when that car split her in half a million years ago. He remembers when his sight filled with red when his old man hit him too hard with a broken bottle. All those rooms he raided with Soto. The laughs, the tears, the nightmares. His arm's not hurting anymore. Nadia's lying over Roshan, the kid's sobbing, jolted awake and not understanding the fuck's going on.

It reminds him of that night, that terrible night when he was holding the gun and staring at- _please please let us go_ \- And it's too much. His world's in half, spinning. Nothing's there. Everything's here.

Oscar's about to shoot again. Diego's faster. He roars and Oscar's down, the gun flying out of his hand. Diego slams a fist in the bastard's face, he lifts Oscar by the collar- he's not even angry. He's terrified and all he wants to do is cry. But that's not what he does. He hoists a yelling Oscar up and in a surge of adrenaline sends him crashing through the window. He doesn't care if Oscar makes it or not. There's too much blood here anyway.

He ignores the shards of glass falling apart, the small cut on his temple. Oscar's broken body somewhere down in the dark. He hopes the maggots get him. He hopes a truck runs him over.

Diego's been cut up inside- he feels himself bleeding there, a hole he didn't even know existed. And now he's holding Nadia in his arms. Maybe it's not too late to save her. They'll go to the hospital and-

"Diego..." She's wheezing. So much blood. "Take Roshan- tell him... I- I love him..." And she can't talk anymore but he sees it in her eyes, a kind of forgiveness. There's no more pulse. Roshan's huddled on the ground. 

"Come on, kid," he says, voice foreign to his ears.

Diego picks up Roshan in his bloodstained hands, the kid clinging to him like he's a fucking lifeguard at a beach. He feels the kid's tears in his collar, but he can't cry with him. Not now. Not yet.

He looks at Nadia one last time, at her bloodied breast, at the pale face. He's not going to forget this. He doesn't want to. He just can't.

* * *

Diego doesn't have many things of value. All that stuff he can get out later. Now he's just gotta run, before Oscar squeals, before the others find out. Soto's got connections and he's not going to be happy about this.

Maybe it'd be better to give Pinky to the cops and just turn himself in- let them take care of it. He's got nothing left. But he's dealt with cops. They can't do shit. Pinky needs him. And a part of him says this is his fault. He can't give up on the kid. He thinks about this as they ride, Roshan in front of him. His bike has enough gas to last hours. The twilight stretches over and they get to a gas station in the middle of nowhere soon enough.

Diego's still shaking and numb, probably looking like a serial killer when he walks into the store, gun in hand. There's blood in his hair and everywhere, his face is bruised and dirtied with red. The cashier's a teen who cries and obeys his every whim.

Diego takes all the money from the register, too numb to feel guilty about something so petty. He takes a bottle of hair dye and a whole lot of salty food. Beer, juice, fucking cereal bars. 

"What's that behind you?" he demands.

"The storage room," the kid blubbers, "don't kill me!"

"Go in it, lock it, and don't come out."

Sobbing, the cashier goes in and Diego pushes a chair against the door. He goes into the bathroom, washes his hands and takes off the jacket. He can't completely get the blood off, but enough so it's not too obvious. He cleans and bandages his arm up with some stolen gauze and antiseptic. He rinses his hair and his face and pretends this is all a dumb dream. But it's not.

On the way out, he removes the chair and leaves a five dollar tip on the counter.

Then he's gone and back on the road, telling Pinky that everything's going to be okay, mom's gone and it's fine to be sad, but he's got Diego, he'll always have Diego. He means it.

They reach a run-down motel soon enough and it looks like something out of a horror movie. Some prostitutes try to make a pass at him but he's not in the mood. He'll never be again.

He gets Pinky settled in bed after washing the kid up. Then Diego washes himself again; he feels terrible for doing this so calmly. The guilt's there but he's not acting on it. He dyes his hair in the shower, runs the black over his yellow head. It mixes with the water and goes down the drain. It won't be Diego Cortez in the mirror later- it'd be a different guy, someone with no blood on his hands, who's going to figure everything out, fake IDs, licenses, anything needed. 

He's ready to come out when it sets in. Nadia's dead. It all led up to this.

He never even kissed her. 

Roshan's asleep when it's Diego's turn to sob in the bathroom, his face scrunching and shoulders shaking.

* * *

They've been on the run for months before Diego thinks it's safe to send movers to his old place. They're going to take his things to a warehouse the Italian chef recommended forever ago. And Diego can decide what to do with those things then.

He's sold his bike and gotten a second-hand car, one that's modest and safe, something Soto wouldn't look twice at. His cell number's changed and he's telling everyone he's Roshan's father. Wife's dead. But no questions, no answers.

He knows he's kidnapped the kid, but if what he remembered is true, Roshan and Nadia weren't even supposed to "exist." It's all messed up. Pinky's still young enough to be impressed on and however accidental, that's what happened. Pinky called him "papa" first.

Diego never asked him to do that. It just happened. And he doesn't debate it. They hop diners together and towns and cry together and sometimes Diego gets himself an odd job here and there: prize fighting, grease monkey, errand boy, delivery man.

He's working as a custodian when Officer Sid shows up on his doorstep, the same cop from the airport. 

"I think you sthould be coming with me, buthster."

"Go to hell."

If everything the cop said hadn't been true, Diego might have filed a restraining order. Sid follows them for a few more towns before Diego throws him off. He takes Roshan by train. He's already applied for a job in this town, a steady, middle class place which is surprisingly quiet save a few instances- a man's family was murdered there some years back, a teacher went crazy, the odd robbery every now and then- perfectly normal.

It's a steady job too. He runs errands and acts as a part chauffeur part handyman for a wide-eyed guy with a serious problem with human interaction. The guy didn't even advertise the position much- it was in a bunched up section in the corner of the ads. His name's Scrat and he's a fucking lifesaver.

They've been in this new place long enough for Diego to get everything settled in their part of the townhouse and memorize the work routine. He's decided to stay here- it'd be good for everyone. And if the police caught him here, well, at least the whole town would know. So he enrolls Roshan Cortez in Wedge and for once in his life, Pinky gets to be a normal kid.

It's something Diego's got no experience with.

But it's at one of these normal school gatherings, at a dumb little league game that he doesn't get, that he sees a man on the bleachers. It's a large guy, a bit scruffy and sour, but there's something sensitive about him, something that says of all people, he'd be the one to understand the fuck-up that is Diego. So out of impulse, Diego sidles up to him and says:

"Got room next to ya?"

It isn't until many days later that he wonders if this is just another mistake.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no update, right? I don't think sorry even begins to cut it. I really am sorry. And thank you all to everyone who's been commenting, leaving kudos, and encouraging me to continue! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

They meet again a few days after the night Diego threw that stupid cop in the dumpster. Manny goes to baseball practice again, hoping to catch a glimpse of Roshan on the field. He sees the other boys swinging bats and practicing their pitches instead. Roshan's a pint-sized water boy. A part of him wants to go down there and tell off Buck for wasting the boy's potential. Then another part of him remembers Roshan probably has no potential. Diego only put him there for fun anyway. Part of the all-American experience, right?

"Weather looks pretty bad, huh?" a voice drawls behind him, that perfect blend of laziness and edge.

Manny turns around. Diego's sitting in the seat above, leather jacket swung over his shoulder. The weather isn't that great, now that Diego mentions it. Manny looks up. The sky's cloudy and there's a bit of chill in the air. It's going to rain soon. He nods.

"Hey, I never got your number," Manny jokes, "I thought friends did stuff like that."

Diego doesn't say anything. Just sits there and runs a hand through his slick black hair. It's all black this time, not a strand of honey in sight. 

"It's been a while since I've had a friend." Diego grins. "Must be hard to believe right, pal? Handsome guy like me?"

"Gorgeous," Manny laughs. He really means it as a joke, but he sees Diego blush. It's a blush that leaves as soon as it comes, but Manny sees it anyway. 

"Since you think I'm such hot stuff, swing off for a drink tonight?"

Not if he's got work in the morning. Last time was a night he didn't regret one bit, but life had priorities. Manny shakes his head. "Why don't you and Roshan come by my place? I'm not much of a cook." A long time ago, he could have said 'but my wife, oh boy, she's good- she loves company, she'd love you.' He pushes back the clench in his heart and says, "But I can make a mean ramen."

It's Diego's turn to chuckle. "I don't like Roshan eating that stuff."

A drop of rain falls on Manny's nose. Then another. And another. And... it's raining. Really raining. Diego slides down to the seat beside Manny and throws his jacket over the both of them.

"Best umbrella I ever had," Manny mutters.

"Don't get too cozy," Diego says before calling "Pinky! Time to go!" at the field and turning back to Manny to say, "Yeah, we'll come by. I'll do the cooking."

* * *

_She_ used to make Italian food all the time. Her grandmother was Italian. It was her specialty. Manny remembers when the house smelled like herbs and olives and tomatoes, and _he_ was on his lap, the TV playing cartoons while she cooked in the kitchen. The kitchen's pretty much empty these last few years, the fridge filled with frozen food, his trash filled with cans, and clean pots and pans that he never uses.

Until Diego comes in. 

And now Manny's sitting at the table playing some version of patty cake with Roshan while the kitchen fills itself with the smell of curry, a brand Diego bought from the supermarket on the way there. Roshan's birth mother recommended it to him once upon a time. It's nice, really. There's light and laughter in his house, and it almost feels too good to be true, like some weird drunken dream. And believe him, he's had a lot of drunken dreams.

When Diego brings in the curry on rice, the three of them sit and eat. Turns out Roshan can handle spice better than Manny. He chokes on the first bite. 

"Should've told me if you have a weak tongue," Diego laughs.

"Weak tongue," Roshan echoes between bites.

Manny rolls his eyes and prepares himself for another bite. His tongue pretty much dies by the end of the meal but it's a damn good meal.

* * *

Roshan falls asleep around nine. Manny asks Diego if he wants to stay since there's some kind of thunderstorm outside. Diego says yes. And that's all the coherent detail Manny can remember. Because next thing he knows, Roshan's covered in a blanket on the couch, and he's downed three cans of beer with Diego. They're both heavyweights.

"I'm glad you came, really," Manny says, leaning on the kitchen isle.

"Got nowhere else to go." Diego opens another can. "You're a good guy, Manny, you know that? Real good."

Manny snorts. "Not good enough. It wouldn't just be me here if I was that good." He's rambling. "I came home late because I wanted to put more work in, and guess what I find. Yep, what I find. Things would be different if I got here earlier. William wanted to come to work with me, you know, but I said, 'not today.' Not today, not today."

Is he crying? He's not sure. But he feels Diego's hand over his.

Diego leads him to the sofa or something. Manny slumps into it. Beside him, Diego empties another can of beer. _Stop wasting my beer._ Their breaths will stink in the morning, Manny just knows it.

"I get it," Diego says in a near whisper, "Manny, I get it."

There's a lot of things about that sentence that make no sense, but Manny understands perfectly. Diego gets it. No one else in the world got it. But Diego does. Manny pulls Diego into his arms, still unsure what he's doing and Diego lets him.

"You're real good too," Manny says.

Diego rests his head on Manny's shoulder. "No, Manny, I'm not." And then it's nothing but thunder and rain and Roshan's snores.

* * *

Manny gets up at five. Diego's curled up on the couch with Roshan. Feeling stiff, Manny leaves the sofa with a pop of his bones and puts a hand to his sore head. Last night did not end the way he had planned. He sighs. Ever since he met Diego, nothing's been going as planned. He's going to brush his teeth, throw in some mouth wash, and shower. Then probably drown himself in coffee and head into the office.

He walks over to the couch. Diego's boyish in his sleep, happy almost, a lot softer than he looks when he's awake. And Manny doesn't know why, but he's starting to feel protective. He smooths back a strand of Diego's hair and looks at Roshan. 

"You're really something, Pinky," he says fondly. And he means it. He wishes Roshan and Diego nothing but the best.

Then Manny goes to the bathroom, does his routine, and leaves for work. When Diego wakes up, Manny's long gone, and when Manny comes home, Diego's left. But there's a note stuck to his door:

_Thanks for dinner. You're a real swell guy, Manny. We mean it. - Diego & Pinky_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! Again, I really appreciate everyone reading and commenting- the surprising amount of support this fic got is why I can't abandon it, so thank you all so much!
> 
> Here's the first chapter of 2017, dedicated to all you wonderful people!
> 
> Note: The POV changes a little in some parts of this, and Diego/Manny get referred to by their surnames a few times (Cortez/Noman in this universe)

Officer Sid Sleuthe is not the best cop in the world. Well, that's an understatement. Officer Sid's the kind of cop that'd have trouble catching kids stealing candy, but he's the guy who could probably foil a drug ring if he wanted to. The key to his success? Dumb luck, stupidity, and the sheer will to exist. But all things considered, Sid isn't bad at his job. So when that slicker with the Indian baby caught his eye, he knew something was fishy. Diego Cortez and "Pinky" Roshan, something was amiss and Officer Sleuthe would be damned if he let that case go.

To get the job done, he follows (not stalking!) Cortez to work (not that Diego does anything special- he's some kind of errand boy for the local rich loony), keeping a good distance behind all the while, and back to his apartment for weeks on end. Roshan is sickeningly adorable and attached to his "papa," more reason for Sid to suspect that something's not right. The more innocent it looks, the more secrets are behind! That's the way that saying goes. Sometimes Sid follows them to another house, a tall guy named Noman's residence, and it didn't take Sid much work to find out about Noman's not-so-pretty past. 

"More susthpitchiousth by the minute," he mutters to himself, into a tape recorder. Maybe he should have just used his phone, but Sid's an old school guy.

And on a fine Sunday morning, after a coffee too many and a sugar rush of doughnuts, Sid finds Noman, Cortez, and the kid playing ball in the park. The sun's shining and the clouds clear. Suburban families came out to have picnics and catch butterflies. It's the perfect scene for a surprise crime, or so Sid believes, not that he really has any idea what Noman and Cortez could possibly plan in broad daylight.

* * *

"All right! Here, Pinky, that's right!" Manny calls, "swing that arm! You're a natural, kid!"

Giggling, Roshan makes his pitch, the baseball flying straight and landing halfway to Manny's glove. Behind him, Diego shakes his head, the leather jacket ditched for a yellowing baseball uniform, dug out somewhere from Manny's closet. But Diego actually looks kind of good in it, not that Manny's paying attention to that sort of thing. He's just here to play ball with Diego and teach Pinky a thing or two about not being a benchwarmer.

"Pinky's not dumb," Diego says, "you're just lying through your teeth, pal!"

"What kind of parent are you? Such little faith!" Manny says with mock indignity, "Hear that, Pinky? Diego here doesn't think you can do it!"

"I can do it!" Roshan insists, running to pick up his ball.

"That's the spirit!"

"Hey! Hey! Don't make me look the bad guy here!" Diego leans on a wooden bat. "Pinky knows I'll support him no matter what. He could be the water boy and I'd go to every game! Ain't that right, little guy?"

"Right!" Roshan chips.

"Ah, you agree with anything," Manny teases, "that's not very fun."

After a few more practice pitches, they work on batting. Diego steps up to demonstrate and Manny throws the ball. It's nearly a home run and soon the ball flies off into a high tree, where it hits Officer Sid squarely in the head. The cop falls out, hitting a few branches along the way, and lands in the dirt at Roshan's feet.

"Hi!" the boy says.

"You again," Diego moans, "what do I have to do? Get a restraining order on you? Really."

Manny comes to pull Roshan away. He recognizes Sid from the speeding incident, and the dumpster incident, and according to Diego, many other embarrassing incidents. _This country's going to ruins if that's an officer!_ "Don't look, Pinky. He's a bad influence."

Sid spits up a wad of dirt and drags himself up. "Bad influenth? I'll show you bad influenth- you're up to something, both of yous, and I'll find out what if it's the last thing I do!"

Manny can tell a fight's about to break out, one that might end with Diego flying in a rage and Sleuthe with a few broken teeth. But then Roshan speaks before Diego can reply, and both men are stumped when the words come out as, "Play with us, mister?"

The cop's stunned for a good ten seconds, before he says, obviously without thinking, "Okay."

* * *

"Don't think thisth is over! I'll find sthomething!" 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's just keep playing. Diego, you're on first."

"Got it. Pinky, you're up. Officer Nosy's pitching."

And on and on, they played. Not that Sid's having fun or anything. Oh fine. It's fun, very fun. They've split into teams of two: he's with the kid, and the other two by themselves. Probably because they deemed his skill level the same as Roshan's. They're just lucky he decided to go easy on them today. Yeah, that's it. 

"Pinky" is a cute kid, Sid has to admit. And looking at how natural the three act, maybe there's nothing wrong after all. For all his animosity towards Cortez, Sid doesn't really get any _bad_ bad vibes here. Just a couple of friends playing with a little son (however he was obtained), as innocent as something can get. Friends might not be best way to put it. The way Noman looks at Cortez, yeah, that's not the way friends look at each other.

Sid knows these things. And just as he's thinking of these things, the ball rebounds and hits him in the nose.

"I'm fine!" he says.

"Nobody asked," Diego replies.

Roshan uses the distraction to slide back to home base, where Noman scoops him up, hoists him over his shoulders, and hollers in joy, much to the kid's delight. Diego joins in, and Sid runs up to high-five the boy with cries of, "We won! We won!"

And several feet away, a battered man in a dusty jacket watches from behind crooked shades. He pulls out his phone and nearly whispers into it, "Le- Lenny? You're not gonna believe this."

Sid never notices. He's not a bad cop, but he's certainly not the best cop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and sticking with me!

**Author's Note:**

> I heard that there was little to no slash for Manny/Diego in this archive so I decided to contribute. Personally, I prefer a platonic "bromance" but experimentation is always fun. This was done as a gift ficlet for Lunarblue21 (hope you still enjoy it!).


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